


Jigsaw Falling Into Place

by det395



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anxiety, Coming Out, Drug Use, Heartbreak, High School, Jealousy, Lack of Communication, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, One Night Stands, Pining, Teenagers, how else to make a story sound Big Sad, idk if this is 1st or 2nd person, this is basically the story of my confusing highschool heartbreak so enjoy the trauma, u think i was paying attention in hs english sitting next to the girl i was infatuated with
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:34:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23222590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/det395/pseuds/det395
Summary: Dan makes him feel wanted, loved, and confident on the good days until the good days become too sparse to be known
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15
Collections: phandomficfests: escape from reality





	1. I

I first spoke to you in English class. Suddenly I didn’t hate it so much anymore, because your last name was the perfect letter to end up next to me in our snaking rows of assigned seating. Because even though we’d never spoken before, I felt excited to see you close.

And  _ I  _ spoke to you first. Me, with only two kind-of-friends so I wouldn’t have to sit alone at lunch. Me, who trembled when I so much as thought of speaking up. I said something to you, and you laughed. And that smile, it made me feel like connection was all I wanted to live for, that humanity was beautiful, that I could make friends at this new school and elsewhere.

There was something safe about that smile.

  
  


-

I step over a fallen tree branch and feel snow seep into my sneakers. Apocalyptic, it is. I’d welcome an apocalypse if I could go back home.

The doors I usually go through are locked. I keep walking, panting with the weight of the snow dragging me back. The snow should be more fun than it is but I currently don’t have friends to play with, and Martyn’s at university now.

I push through the front doors and see groups of people scattered around the foyer. Friends chatting. It’s one of those sights that makes my stomach drop to my feet. If  _ my  _ designated kind-of-friends aren’t here, then I don’t have anyone to stand with. 

But I do see Seyi walking by, alone. In History we talked sometimes. I rush forward, ask what’s happening. 

A bloody snow day, of course. He looks excited. He waves me along, we walk up to Cece and Nadia. 

“Dan’s parents always say yes. My phone’s dying. You call, Phil.”

I’m not about to fight those instructions, even though I barely know what’s going on. I turn away from everyone as I stutter to you. I say our names, invite myself, stare wide-eyed across the room as you laugh through the phone and say okay.

-

I think I’m only walking to your house because I happened to be in the right place at the right time because Seyi is such a friendly guy. Is that how everyone makes friends? Right place right time? Because now that I’m here, it’s not too hard to chime in every few minutes.

Your house is smaller than mine, but it’s cute. Your mom is pretty. Your dad is elsewhere. You look, well, maybe it’s the reflection of the sun but I think you’re glowing.

I read every single book title you have in your room, even though you mention you haven’t read all of them. Everyone else is talking at you. Even though you’re not popular, I know that everyone likes you. But you’re not shallow, either.

At one point, Seyi tackles you and everyone jumps on. I don’t know why I’m surprised you’re all still playful like in primary school. Seyi tells me to come on, to dog-pile, and I almost do it but I freeze because getting too close seems like something bad.

I drink a few glugs of whiskey you hid in your closet, so it’s not all playful, but I have drunk alcohol before. With the friends I kept from my old school. Well, Ian’s friends, and Ian still invites me over lots.

I make sure to talk every once in a while, and everyone laughs at my jokes. When I finally go home, it’s like I’m burning up with happiness.

-

I walk around with my two kind-of-friends at school. I like Judy, she’s quiet and a bit strange but she’s nice. Angela is a bit judgemental, and sometimes I can tell she points that judgement at me, but she’s fun.

You walk by with Nadia and wave at me. Without thinking, I follow. I don’t say goodbye to my kind-of-friends or say a word to you, I just fall in step with you like I’m magnetized.

I don’t look back at Judy or Angela, and I don’t look at Nadia, either. You don’t look at me like I’m strange, and that’s all that matters. You just start to chat with me, like I belong on your right side.

-

I think Nadia is a bit possessive of you. She’s not mean to me, but she’s not nice either. 

Nadia sets me up with this girl, who I can’t really say no to. You are supportive. The girl smokes cigarettes and always brings me out to the informal smoke pit. People are smoking weed here, and I can’t shake my anxiety. When I go to her house, I smoke with her and then I spoon her while watching a bad comedy, and the discomfort seeps down to my bones.

You also support me, maybe a little too vehemently, when I say the girl is too clingy and annoying. I get to come back to our lunches together, where I spend all of my allowances on McDonald’s that I don’t even really want, all because it’s so fun to make you laugh.

-

I wish Nadia wasn’t always there, but she is. And other people are always there, too. I suppose this is what friendship is like, but I’d be so much happier just talking to you.

This different girl is flirting with me now. You smile at me supportively and I feel like I’m at a breaking point, drowning in this far too normal friend group. Determination fills my chest like it rarely does, and I ask you to go for a walk.

People follow, of course they do. It’s lunch, everyone follows their pack. As weird as it is that I have a pack now. I walk fast and my legs are long and so are yours, and you still don’t look at me like I’m weird. It doesn't even cross my mind that you might be mean to me. Not  _ you _ .

We’re about to turn a corner and I pull you into the first door on our left, walk past the urinals and the stalls and face you.

I’m breathing so hard I feel like a panting dog. I stare at you and your eyes sparkle.

“I don’t think I like girls. I think I just like boys,” I say. 

You hug me. 

“I just wanted to tell you, because I think we’re good friends now and I feel like I’m lying to…” I slowly stop myself from rambling.

“It’s okay, Phil, you’re okay,” you say, and you give me that smile.

-

It’s the best when we get to hang out alone. Because we’re the only ones that like Harry Potter so now I’m an ultra-fan for you and we get to binge it alone. We’re the ones who can play video games for hours, or sometimes my board games. You always offer me something to drink, so I get you shot glasses that have ‘mischief managed’ engraved on the side for Christmas.

You also invite me to a party, just us, and drive us there recklessly through the snow. It’s an older coworkers party, meaning it’s a college party, but I’m not that nervous because you’re here. We walk in with our shared alcohol and you introduce me to some friends.

And then you disappear.

I swear I only take two shots, but suddenly it’s hard to see straight. Someone I’m standing by points out a man across the room and says, “guess what? He’s gay.” So I walk over and compliment him.

I run into you a couple more times but you’re drunk somehow, and you keep talking in circles, and this was supposed to be fun for  _ us,  _ but instead, I take Riley’s hand and find a bedroom.

I wake up and find my underwear in the sheets, and have the ghost of a memory, the feeling of a rough hand down my pants. 

You drive me home and I have a headache, but when we reach my house, I don’t get out. You chat with me about the party, and I laugh at your stories. I look over at you and you’re leaning in.

“I thought maybe we’d be the ones to hook up last night,” you say. Your voice doesn’t tremble, but you do look a bit angry, the first time I’ve ever ever seen that.

“Me too,” I reply, even though it didn’t cross my mind.

“Maybe next time.”

“Yeah.”

You give me a peck on the lips, a shadow of a feeling, and I leave smiling. 

I go inside and call Ian and tell him I’m gay, and I might have a boyfriend soon. It’s so different from the first time I told Ian, when I cried, clutching the beer we stole from his dad because I didn’t  _ want  _ to be gay. 

I think I want to be, now.

-

When I see you at school again, you have a date with a girl from the party. You just smile at me the same as you always do, like nothing is wrong, while I try not to question everything.


	2. II

Your girlfriend doesn’t seem all that great, I’ll be honest. I don’t know what you have in common, and I doubt she can make you laugh as much as I can.

I still seem to get a lot of you. Nadia has stopped following you around, and now it’s just us. When you buy drugs from someone, you come to  _ my _ house on the weekend that I’m alone. 

I give it a little squeeze, testing the give. It’s like plastic. Is it plastic? No, it can’t be. Except it really is like those little toy compartments in Kinder eggs, and I’m sure I could pop it open the same way. I can feel the little bump where the sides meet and twist it, but I’ll stop because you won’t be happy if I spill it all over my jeans.

Putting it up to a lamp, I can see the powder inside. That’s it? For everything you’ve explained it will do?

You come back with water and sit on the other side of the room. I’m glad, you can’t see my hands tremble. I don’t feel that anxious, because it’s you.

And you still look at me like that. A little mischievous, sure, but mostly you look at me like I’m the best person in the world. 

When it kicks in, I fall on my side. The whole room shakes up and down, and you are at my side quickly. You pull me up to my room.

-

We’ve never been this close before. I can count the number of times we’ve hugged on one hand, and I have. 

But here we are, continuously hugging,  _ in bed.  _ And your face is right there, and you’re telling me you love me.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a friend as good as you,” you say, and you’re talking so fast but I’m following every word. You repeat it a few times, and your eyes are black and blown out and you look close to tears, even, every emotion pasted right here on your face and directed at  _ me _ .

“You’re my best friend, genuinely, no one else has ever…” I start saying.

“Me too. You’re my best friend, and you’re the first best friend I’ve ever had, and I love you, y’know?” Your eyes are wide. I want you to say it again, and you do, over and over again, like you just can’t stop saying it. Each time I feel it directly in my heart and say it back.

I want to kiss you. I stare at your lips, hoping for it, feeling the desire deep in my bones. I pull you closer, and you come until we’re chest to chest.

I feel so dizzy that I don’t think I could lift my head up if I tried, but I begin to think I’m okay to stay here forever. I think I’m in love with you. That I’ll do anything if it’s with you.

-

The feeling lingers for a long time after. You don’t find more drugs, but it’s okay because we feel closer. We do everything together. We want to go to Portugal after graduation. I don’t even think I’ll go to graduation because it won’t be fun if you think it’s lame. 

You still have a girlfriend, but you complain about her a lot, so I keep telling Ian one day you’ll be my boyfriend, I’m sure of it.

I invite you to hang out with me and Ian and all of his friends, to drink shots of vodka with me, and it almost feels like a real high school party. I think you’re impressed, and I also think you’re drunk. My bank account has dwindled with the money I took out to buy us the cocaine you found this time, and now the left side of our faces are numb.

It’s worth it because you push me against the wall in the bathroom and kiss me. It’s a really bad kiss, admittedly, because I’m not prepared and your lips are everywhere, but at least you’re pressed against me. You pull back too fast and run out the door with a smile on your face.

I sit next to you on the sofa while you tell Ian we’re not dating, and we’re not going to date, a humorous smile on your face that still looks so innocent somehow. You don’t even stop when you notice me, you let me listen.

-

Every time I smoke weed with you, I sit there and tell myself this can be the last time. I don’t need to subject myself to the anxiety, this paranoia, this exhaustion ever again. It helps me get through it.

I’m pulled out of my own brain as I follow you through the shopping centre in a daze. You’ve been talking to me, and only now am I realizing you’re talking about us. I realize this is probably the most candid I’ve ever heard you speak. I tune in and nod.

“I think maybe in 5 years we can be together. I imagine us getting married, having kids, being happy, just not yet. We should see other people,” you say.

I nod and agree. The fluorescent lights hurt my eyes.

-

We get through studying for exams because you find ADHD medication. I’m anxious on it when I’m not talking to you, so I talk your ear off, and you talk mine off.

I learn that your dad isn’t that great. I want to tell you that we can keep us a secret, but it won’t come out.

I still feel such a rush when I look at you, my heart aches like it did when we laid in bed.

-

We don’t go to the graduation banquet after all, we go to a house party with our friends, walking out the door away from Mum’s sad face.

I’m glad that you don’t invite your girlfriend but I still watch you flirt with a different girl, drunk and touchy. I don’t get a word from you the entire time, so I spend hours beating the high score on the pinball machine in the corner. At least when people talk to me, I can feign distraction.

You find me when I’ve snuck into a free bedroom to lay down my dizzy brain. You crawl in and face me like that other amazing night.

I don’t know why, but you tell me you don’t like having sex with your girlfriend, you feel nothing. I tell you we can have sex, we don’t have to mean anything of it, I just want to give you anything you want. And why do you look so sad?

-

We’re not talking that much this summer, but I make an effort when our trip to Portugal comes close. I feel excited standing with you at the airport, even though you’re still texting your girlfriend. Soon, airplane mode is turned on and the sky is dark outside, and you even sleep on my shoulder, just for a little bit.

The staff all think we’re brothers and we laugh awkwardly and bump shoulders walking out to get a taxi.

Something's different between us, I don’t know why you’re not laughing as much, and I don’t know why I’m not buzzing with excitement. I escape the hotel room to call Ian a few times, talking to him like I’ve been starved of attention.

-

I burn every part of my body after we go to a beach on the first day. At night, I lay on my stomach and you crawl on top of me and rub aloe gently along all my limbs. I don’t know how much you can see in the dark of the room, but it seems pretty obvious you’re crossing my burn lines, sneaking your hands up under the ends of my underwear. Not that I’m saying anything. I do the same to you, on your less severe burns rising up your legs, which are softer than mine.

We stay in the same bed that night and don’t put on our clothes because they’ll get too sticky, of course.

But when I wake up and you’re texting your girlfriend, telling me how sweet her message was, I quickly pull on my clothes.

-

On the last day of our short trip, we fight over how much deli meat to buy. My voice shakes, and yours raises more and more as customers walk by, probably wondering where our parents are. You tell me I’ll never eat that much, I tell you I’ll pay for my own, you say you’re sick of sandwiches, I say we’re saving money. In my head I know we must sound like idiots.

I go and get the deli meat anyway, because I’m stubborn, and you can’t stop me. I wonder if maybe we were getting drunk, or getting high here that you’d be nicer to me, that things would feel the same. 

Maybe I should just stop talking to you completely.

And I do, after a hug goodbye at the airport. I don’t talk to anyone from school. There’s nothing I want to do less right now.

-

For my first winter break from university I’m sitting in an outdoor lounge with Mum and Dad, the humid air of Florida surrounding us. I stare at my virgin drink with a red face because that young waitress asked for my number and I had nothing to say to her but ‘no’.

Mum leans in after Dad’s gone to piss. “Do you even like girls, Phil?” She asks, accent strong from the cocktails spread throughout the day.

I shake my head.

“Okay. Boys?”

I nod, and she smiles kindly.

“It was Dan, right?”

I nod again and hiccup into a sob at the next second. It comes out of nowhere. She pulls me in for a hug, almost aggressive with her force. I contain the sobs quickly but the racing of my heart continues all night, as I realize I like boys, and it’s part of me now for good because Mum knows. And I don’t just like you.

-

I meet you for frozen yogurt, a year after graduation. Ian’s mad I’m doing it, but I come anyway.

Your hair is slightly shorter, your clothes a bit more expensive. There are things to talk about. Many, really, we’re both at university now, even though it’s only a train ride, we’re far. 

I look at you and think,  _ I was in love with you.  _ Even though I haven’t fallen in love with anyone else, it seems quite obvious. I can pull up those feelings with a little bit of effort, a few good memories, snapshots, jokes, moments that made my heart bubble up my throat. Sometimes there’s no effort, because you turn up in my dreams and I wake up with that ache. Maybe if we ever slept together, it would be worse, maybe I should be grateful you toed around me  _ that  _ much.

You text me about the problems you’re having with your girlfriend later. I can tell you’re struggling, but just like always, I don’t think you can see it yourself. I can’t tell if you’re asking for something, I don’t think I could ever really tell, I can only guess that I was a vessel for the love you hold deep in your heart to go somewhere, someone who loved you back. 

I slowly stop texting you back. Maybe you’ll find me in four years.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr link](https://det395.tumblr.com/post/613067881670983680/jigsaw-falling-into-place)


End file.
